...What About Bob

Thursday, February 14, 2013

It happens all the time. Whenever I
tell the latest funny about my hubby, Bob—even to someone who has never
met him—their reply will most likely be, “Poor Bob”. There are literally
hundreds of Bob stories out there ready to be told and they are usually
about everyday occurrences. When taken by themselves these stories are
pretty humdrum, but wrap them around Bob, (the delightful creamy center)
and comedy can’t help itself. Neither can Bob. (BTW... all these stories have received the official, Bob’s Seal of Approval)

Poor Bob Story #1

On our very first date, I had just
turned 18, he was 20 and we went bowling. It was the typical, pick up
the girl, go to the bowling alley and then to the drive-in hamburger
joint type of date. What you might call a safe date. Bowling is one of
those activities where anyone can have fun even if they are lousy at it.
However, there are some people that take the challenge of a good game
quite seriously. (Or a game where a guy can impress his girl with his
prowess). That night I discovered there is one popular bowling technique
where you ‘throw’ the ball with as much velocity as you can and then
when the ball smacks that first pin all the other pins will come
crashing down just from the sheer ricochet power alone. I also
discovered...that’s the way REAL MEN bowl.

Well, maybe
it was my fault, I dunno, or maybe Bob was just a bit nervous because he
was on his first date with such a hottie, (guess that part is my
fault) but somehow he lost his concentration for a split second putting
his ankle directly in the path of one of the many manly ferocious
throws. Thud. Ouch. Wow, that had to hurt...but oh, what a guy! He just
walked it off. Then, the evening went on like a normal first date. He
won the game, we laughed, we ate our burgers and we said good night at
my dorm room door.

A few days later I found out why there was no “good night, I really like you and want to see you again”
kiss. Alas, poor Bob had been in sheer agony the whole night with his
severely banged up ankle. Like the REAL MAN he was, he toughed it out
but enough was enough...he just couldn't wait any longer to get the heck
out of there and over to the Emergency Room. Hottie or not.

Fortunately his ankle wasn’t broken... and I never wore those distracting tight pants again...at least at the bowling alley.